Occupational Hazards
by hester4418
Summary: "Don't bother trying to explain because I don't want to know." - A J/C story written for VAMB's Secret Drabble Exchange 2015.


DISCLAIMER: _Star Trek: Voyager_ and all its characters belong to Paramount Pictures; no infringement of copyright is intended. The story however belongs to me.

Many thanks, as always, to Eydie Munroe for the quick and painless beta. All remaining mistakes are my own.

Written April 2015 for VAMB's Secret Drabble Exchange 2015, which allowed for a maximum of 1200 words. The first line and choice of characters were provided by purpledog, so this story is for her.

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 **Occupational Hazards  
by Hester (hester4418)**

"Don't bother trying to explain because I don't want to know." Janeway spun on her heel, away from the target of her ire, and began pacing the length of Sickbay.

"Captain..." Chakotay started, trying to sit up, but the Doctor's hand pushed him firmly back down.

"I'm not finished with you, Commander, so kindly hold still while I mend your scalp."

Chakotay grimaced as the Doctor expertly probed the edges of his wound. The laceration was deep, and he yelped in pain when the EMH applied pressure to one particular area.

"When that nacelle was sheared off, you could've gotten yourself killed!" Janeway was back at his side, glaring down at him without the slightest indication of pity.

This time though, the Doctor came to his rescue. "Actually, Captain, while there is a lot of blood and the commander doubtlessly suffers some discomfort, the injury is not life-threatening. He'll be up and about in no time." Before either Janeway or Chakotay could reply, he fixed the first officer with a penetrating stare. "However, given your propensity for shuttle accidents, might I suggest you wear some headgear next time?"

Chakotay tried to grunt out a reply but was once again beaten to the punch by Janeway.

"How could this even happen?" she asked.

He thought it best not to point out that she'd refused to listen to his explanation only moments before. "It was Tom's idea," he said, glad to be getting a word in at last and to shift part of the blame at the same time.

"Crashing the shuttle was Tom's idea?" Janeway's eyes narrowed dangerously.

"Not crashing it," Chakotay amended, wincing again as the Doctor continued treating his wound. "Just... improving it."

Janeway looked over to the other biobed, where their chief pilot/assistant medic was busy pretending that he wasn't at all involved in the conversation. "Mr. Paris, would you care to explain?"

"Uh... I figured that the shuttle's configuration was subpar, so I made a few adjustments to improve maneuverability."

Janeway's glare was fast turning murderous. "The last time I checked, Lieutenant Torres was Voyager's chief engineer, not you."

Paris ducked his head. "I actually have more experience with this particular model than she has."

"That may be so, but you still need to clear modifications on _all_ of Voyager's shuttles with her. Is that clear?"

"Yes, Captain." Paris even managed to look properly apologetic. "I just thought I'd handle Chakotay's request myself and let her get some rest."

Janeway immediately rounded on the first officer again. "What does he mean, he was handling 'Chakotay's request'?" she inquired. "You just claimed that it was _his_ idea."

Chakotay swallowed. "I may have... suggested... that the shuttle could do with a few... enhancements. I was thinking along the lines of rainbow-colored running lights, though."

Janeway rolled her eyes. "While that idea may have some merit, the logs clearly show that you were executing a series of quick loopings and barrel rolls. You know that the hull can't tolerate such high stresses."

"I suppose I was too caught up in the moment to think of that," Chakotay admitted.

" _I_ suppose you were showing off," Janeway countered and gave an exasperated sigh. "Boys and their toys. It's a good thing only you and Tom were present, or someone else might have gotten _seriously_ hurt." She turned back to Paris. "Is the shuttle salvageable at least?"

"Affirmative, Captain," Paris assured her. "B'Elanna wanted to make the repairs herself but I told her I'd handle it." He dropped his voice. "She really needs to cut back on her work hours − she keeps complaining that the baby is too active and won't let her sleep, her back hurts, her feet hurt, she's not going to tolerate this state for yet another four weeks..."

Janeway's gaze softened. "I remember the feeling well," she allowed.

Just then, the doors to sickbay slid aside and a small boy of approximately four years of age charged toward Chakotay. "You broke the shuttle!" he exclaimed, bright blue eyes blazing in a way Chakotay found eerily reminiscent of Kathryn Janeway's famous 'death glare'.

He looked up, only to find the woman in question watching their exchange. Her expression had turned to one of amused curiosity, no doubt about how he would explain his part in the unfortunate accident.

"It was a test flight, Dalen," he started slowly, groping for the right words. "Remember how we discussed the importance of thoroughly testing every new piece of equipment, to make sure no one gets hurt?"

"But you broke it!" Dalen insisted, tears now starting to cloud his eyes. "And you got hurt, too. Chell told me."

Making a mental note to speak to the Bolian about spreading inappropriate news, Chakotay sat up and patted the spot next to himself. After a moment of hesitation, the boy scrambled up on the biobed and Chakotay hoisted him onto his lap. "Yes, but the Doctor already made it all better."

Dalen shot a look at the EMH and, still teary-eyed, asked him, "Can you make the shuttle better, too?"

The Doctor shook his head. "While I am a hologram of many talents, I believe that engineering matters are best left in the hands of those more skilled with a hyperspanner."

Chakotay fought to suppress his grin and hugged Dalen tightly. "Uncle Tom said he'd repair the damage."

"Really?" The boy gazed up at him. "Then can we do loopings and stuff?"

Chakotay laughed. He leaned in close to Dalen's ear and replied in a conspiratorial whisper that could still be heard by all those present, "I'm sure we can eventually, but we'll have to start out slowly. Your mom says we shouldn't be reckless, and you know that she's the boss."

The boy sighed dramatically, throwing a shrewd glance at his mother. "Okay, Dad."

The parents' eyes met over the head of the child conceived on New Earth and born during Voyager's third year in the Delta Quadrant. Chakotay was relieved to see a smile pulling at the corners of Kathryn's mouth, and when he extended a hand she grasped it and joined her little family, affectionately ruffling Dalen's short raven hair.

Tom Paris chose that moment to close his toolbox with a snap. "All done," he announced.

Dalen whooped, scrambled down from his father's lap and ran to Tom.

Grinning, the pilot lifted the boy's pride and joy, a remote-controlled toy shuttle, from the biobed and placed it into Dalen's outstretched arms. "There, good as new. It's even got the new running lights your dad asked for." Two multi-colored strips of light were flashing rhythmically along either side of the shuttle's hull.

Dalen beamed happily as Kathryn nodded her approval and laid a hand on his shoulder. "Let's take it to your aunt B'Elanna so she can clear it for take-off."

Chakotay moved to join them, but she turned to him again and added, "In an hour we'll arrive at that planetary system sensors detected earlier. You'll pilot the shuttle with the away team looking for supplies. And Commander − remember to wear a helmet."

With that, she and Dalen walked out, leaving a stunned Chakotay and a smirking Tom Paris behind.

-==/ The End \==-


End file.
